


A Need To Talk

by MusicLover19



Series: One-Shots [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Coma, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Mentions of Claudia Stilinski - Freeform, Pre-Slash, Stiles is a little depressed, in my opinion anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 07:18:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8436478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicLover19/pseuds/MusicLover19
Summary: Following an intense panic attack at school, Stiles wakes in the hospital. Sneaking away, he stumbles upon the room of a comatose man.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to post this in my one-shot collection but it felt wrong to do so. I felt like it deserved a spot all on it's own. Hopefully you enjoy it!  
> I'm not sure if this will go anywhere else. It could easily end here and fall into the Teen Wolf realness.

Stiles pushed himself out of the hospital bed with an annoyed sigh. He hated waking up there. Having done this many times already, Stiles didn’t bother waiting for the nurse to come by like they would normally, instead, he made his way out of the room they had put him in. He was thankful that he had clearly not been there for long since he was still in the clothes he had worn to school.

It was muscle memory that brought Stiles to the long-term care ward. The thought of being in the hospital again always hurt but the pain of being on the familiar floor was overwhelming. Hearing the faint sound of approaching footsteps, Stiles ducked into one of the open rooms and hid behind the door. He did not want to go back and wait in a small room for his dad to pick him up.

It wasn’t until the person passed the room he was hiding in and disappeared down the hall that Stiles felt able to breathe again. Turning to look around the room, Stiles jumped in shock, stopping the yell by throwing a hand over his mouth as his other hand clutched his chest.

“Oh! I’m so sorry man! I didn’t know anyone was in here!” Stiles gasped, trying to keep his voice soft. Stiles waited a moment, half expecting the man laid in the bed to say something, probably yell at him for intruding.

When nothing happened, Stiles took a few hesitant steps closer.

“Ouch,” he said softly, his eyes quickly roaming the man. There were severe burns covering at least half of his visible body. Almost without thinking, Stiles reached for the information sheet that the nurses left in the long-term care rooms. “Peter Hale,” Stiles read before looking back over to the man. “I’m sorry for your loss. I heard – well everyone heard. It sucks,” he finished before looking back down, frowning slightly as he read about the man being in a coma.

Putting the sheet back, Stiles made his way over to the visitor chair and sat in it.

“I hope you don’t mind. I – I don’t want them to make me go back,” he said softly. “Plus you’re in a coma. I don’t really know how that works,” Stiles admitted. “Can you hear everything? That would suck. Like being awake but not being awake. Not being able to move or see anything but just hearing the world go on around you. It can’t be a fun experience.”

“My mum used to be in one of the rooms a few doors down,” Stiles said softly, interrupting the brief silence that had fallen over the room. “She died a year and a half ago. I – I miss her, you know? That’s why I hate it here. There are so many bad memories,” Stiles sighed. “School has to send me here though, it’s protocol for when students pass out,” he said bitterly.

“I get really bad panic attacks,” Stiles offered to the silence. “When no one is there to help me, I pass out. My doctor wants me to try medication,” Stiles said, his leg beginning to bounce as he spoke. “I don’t want more medication. I already have some because my head is messed up. Dad wants me to talk to someone as well, he thinks it will be good. He’s only stopped drinking himself to sleep and he wants me to talk to someone?” Stiles questioned in a scathing tone.

Another set of footsteps passed by the door, causing Stiles to still.

“I – I should probably go before they realise I’m missing,” he mused. “See you around Peter.”

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

It was almost a month before Stiles found himself back at the hospital. He had stood outside, debating with himself for a long stretch of time before he had given in and ventured inside once again.

“So apparently talking to people in comas can be good,” Stiles said in greeting as he sat back in the chair next to Peter’s bed. “There was a lot of information that they’re still unsure of but people have woken up from comas and talked about how they heard people talk. Not everyone,” Stiles said, his eyes on Peter as he talked. It was strange, he could see the man breathe and Stiles was unsure of how he felt knowing that the man may be hearing what he says.

“The general advice is to announce who you are and to talk like normal,” Stiles told the man. “That isn’t really too difficult. I talk all the time; people normally beg me to stop. Another bit of advice is that contact can help as well but I don’t think we know each other well enough to get our cuddle on,” Stiles said with a smile.

“I – I don’t think I told you who I was,” Stiles admitted, thinking back on his last visit. “I’m Stiles,” he paused for a moment. “Strange name I know, it’s a nickname, my real one is a mouthful to say. My mum was one of the only people to say it properly.”

Stiles paused in his thoughts, he looked down at his hands as he took a moment to just breathe.

“I took the medication,” he admitted. “I didn’t want to be back here. I agreed to talk to a therapist as well. I – it’s not what _I_ want. It’s more for everyone else. Maybe if I get better then dad will stop drinking…”

Stiles shook his head, pushing the thought away.

“I should go. I told dad I was at Scott’s,” Stiles said. “I – get better ok?” he asked the burnt man before he left.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

“She has no idea what she’s talking about!” Stiles fumed as soon as he entered Peter’s room. “That – she –” Stiles didn’t even know what he wanted to say. He paced as he thought, his anger mixing with the pain that left his first therapy session.

“She – she said that – I can’t do this,” Stiles said loudly, stopping his pacing as his vison began to blur. “It _was_ my fault. She knows nothing,” he whispered brokenly, his body sinking into the chair. “Even – even mum knew,” the tears were now making their way down his cheeks. “She told me – _I_ was _killing_ her,” Stiles stressed, his voice breaking.

Stiles lent forward, his elbows on the bed next to Peter’s side as his head fell into his hands.

“I _did_ something,” Stiles gasped. “If I wasn’t there she wouldn’t have –”

Stiles broken words turned into sobs as he cried next to Peter’s still body. Stiles spent the rest of his visit like that, his sobs turning into silent tears as his self-hatred grew. He left Peter with a quiet ‘goodbye’.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

“Hey Peter,” Stiles said softly when he entered the room, after making sure that the man was still the one in that room of course. “It’s Stiles… it’s – it’s been a while man,” Stiles admitted.

“It’s been a long year. My dad – he stopped drinking. He’s now working almost constantly though,” he admitted. “It sucks but he’s not constantly drunk, so I guess it’s a win. I stopped talking to that therapist as well. She didn’t help too much. I should probably find another, I have the signs of depression and with everything that happened with my mum, I’m probably on the verge of a mental breakdown,” Stiles said humourlessly.

Stiles sat in silence for a moment.

“She attacked me,” he admitted softly, feeling a weight fall from his chest. “My mum – on – on one of her bad days she attacked me. She said I wanted to kill her. It was just as I arrived to visit her, she just took one look at me and started screaming and – she managed to push me against the wall,” Stiles said, his voice growing distant as his memories came to the forefront of his mind. “Her hands were around my throat and she begged them to find a gun, a knife – something to kill me with. She was going to kill me before I could kill her. They got her away from me before I passed out from a lack of oxygen. Some – sometimes I think that it would have saved her, if she had killed me.”

The silence grew again as Stiles was transported back into his memories.

“I don’t know how you do it,” he said finally. “If you’re able to hear everything – surely it would be better to just be dead? There would be no pain. No grieving. Everything would be ok. Why can’t everything just _be_ ok,” Stiles said in a broken tone before he forced himself to leave, sending one last look over to Peter.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

It had been years since Stiles had stood in this familiar corridor, one that he had purposely avoided for many reasons. Some many things had changed since he had last been there, he felt in control. He was not as lost. Stiles had gotten a support network that were conscious. It wasn’t Derek’s harsh voice through the phone that caught his attention this time, instead it was a different voice – one he had never heard before.

“You must be Stiles,” it said to his right. Stiles turned towards it, the phone in his hand falling to the floor as he stared at the man he knew. At the burns that he would never forget. At the body that he had sat bedside.

“Oh my god –”


End file.
